The Flinchum File
Thoughtful Economic Analysis and Existential Opinions

Like A Baby


Memorial Day is the most meaningful holiday of the year . . . but I hate it, because it is the only day of the year that I always cry.

Yes, it is a colorful day, with red, white, and blue flags and balloons.  Politicians preening for votes behind red, white, and blue bunting.  Hopefully, they will remind us that America is more than an accident.  It was a great accomplishment that was fought for and paid for with our blood.

People confuse Memorial Day and Veterans Day.  Memorial Day is not a day to thank veterans for their service.  It is a day to remember the veterans who never made it back home, to memorialize the price they paid . . . for us.

Memorial Day is also a day for painful melodrama by imagining . . . suddenly finding yourself on the ground or rice paddy or roadside, feeling that warm, slippery fluid leaking out of your body, and recognizing you need help.  As you assess your medical condition, you look for a buddy, because nobody wants to die alone.  You think about all the good-byes you wish you could make. Of course, there are equally horrifying ways to be killed in ships and planes and submarines, and my heart goes out to each and every one of them as well.

Hamburger and hot dogs are great.  The beginning of summer is great.  But, Memorial Day is a day to cry!


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